Cantina of the Dead
by EsmeAmelia
Summary: Ben meets his family in the afterlife.


AN: I do not own Star Wars. Also, this is a spiritual (eh, no pun intended) sequel of sorts to my fic "Together Again," in which Han and Luke reunite after death, but you don't need to have read that one in order to understand this one. You could also consider it a prequel to "A Legacy Lives On," but again, you don't need to have read that fic in order to understand this one.

"Cantina of the Dead"

By EsmeAmelia

Ben was tired – more tired than he had ever been in his life, like he could sleep forever and it wouldn't be enough, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was alive – alive and healthy and happy. Yes, she would be happy. She would live a long, happy life, maybe even start a family of her own.

That was enough.

That was worth him giving every last bit of his energy to her.

And for the first time in so many years, he was happy too.

His exhausted body collapsed into her arms.

It was over.

. . .

Ben awoke not knowing where he was or what was happening, his mind swimming through fragments of memories. Palpatine. Rey. A dark, ominous room full of dark, ominous voices. His mother. His father. Slaying the Knights of Ren.

A kiss.

"Ben?"

A vague sense that something was wrong penetrated the sea of memories. He was _injured_, wasn't he? He should be in agonizing pain, shouldn't he?

_Shouldn't_ he?

"Ben?"

The voice calling his name seemed to come from outside his realm, somewhere unreachable . . .

"Ben, it's all right, open your eyes."

Ben wasn't even aware that his eyes were closed, and even once he was made aware that they were closed, it took an effort to open them, and then it took a further effort to make out anything other than bright blurs.

"Ben, look at me."

He blinked once, twice, three times, and there slowly materialized a face he never thought he would see again.

"Mom!"

She smiled at him, her form aged but shimmering, surrounded by a bright blue light. He instantly threw his arms around her, feeling that her form actually had _substance_. "Mom . . . Mom . . . Mom . . ."

Her arms were around him, feeling the same as her embraces from so many years ago. Though the reason _why _she felt substantial to him poked at the edge of his mind, he pushed it away in favor of savoring this moment.

"Ben," she murmured, "you weren't supposed to come here so soon . . . but I'm so proud of you."

Here. That one word shattered everything. Ben pulled out of the embrace, gazing into his mother's sad eyes. "Where is _here?"_

Leia blinked at him as if trying to hold in tears. "I just got here too."

Suddenly Ben felt cold. "I'm . . . I'm . . ." The last word hung in the air, unspoken but present.

His mother gave a small nod, her eyes lowered. "You weren't supposed to . . . not yet . . . not so soon . . . but you . . ."

"Gave my life for Rey," Ben finished.

Leia looked like she was about to cry, but ghosts couldn't shed tears . . . could they? Maybe they could – it wasn't like Ben knew the rules of being dead.

"I had to do it," Ben found himself saying. "I couldn't let her . . ."

"I know," said Leia before looking like she was swallowing the tears that might or might not exist. "Come with me, a lot of people are eager to see you."

"A lot of people?" Ben couldn't keep himself from sounding worried.

Leia smiled again. "Our family. But if you want to wait, you can."

"Family . . ." Ben looked around, realizing he was in a bed with what looked like sunlight pouring over him. Did ghosts sleep? _Could _ghosts sleep? The room was simple but elegant: white walls, a wooden nightstand next to the bed, a vase with flowers in it sitting on the nightstand. "Where is this?"

"It's where our family . . . well, _lives_ isn't the right word, but it's where most of them _reside._ The way I understand it, the house keeps growing as more of us, well, you know." She kissed her son's forehead.

"Until now," Ben found himself saying. "It won't grow anymore." _"As once I fell, so falls the last Skywalker."_ Palpatine's words rang in his – could it be called a mind anymore? – as he rested his head on his mother's shoulder. The last Skywalker. "I-I . . . I don't know how to face them . . . how can I . . . after everything . . ."

Again Leia kissed his head. "They want to see you."

"How do I face them?" Ben repeated. "They should want _nothing _to do with me."

"Well, you'll have to figure that out for yourself." She offered her hand. "Do you want to come?"

Ben stared at his mother's outstretched hand for what felt like several minutes, remembering how his own hand was once outstretched like that. He silently thanked Rey for _not_ taking his hand back then.

He tried to take a deep breath, only to find that he didn't breathe. Of course, he didn't need oxygen anymore, but it might have been _nice_ to take a deep breath in order to prepare himself for this. He wasn't feeling any of the normal bodily reactions to nervousness, either – no twists in his stomach (if he even had a stomach anymore), no nerves tightening up, no sweating. It felt strangely _empty._

But at long last, he still gained the courage to take his mother's hand.

. . .

Ben didn't know where he had expected his mother to take him, but he knew that he _hadn't _expected her to take him to what looked like a _cantina._ But that was indeed what it looked like – a long bar at the end of the room, ghosts of various species seated at the bar as they chatted and drank, various tables spread out around the room at which more ghosts were eating, drinking, and chatting, even a band of ghosts playing an upbeat tune in the corner.

"What the . . .?" Ben exclaimed.

Leia grinned at him. "Not the afterlife you were expecting?"

"That's one way of putting it . . ."

However, Ben didn't have time to linger on the strangeness of it all, since a familiar face was emerging from the crowd – a face that made Ben want to hide behind his mother. He looked _older_ than he had when Ben had last seen him – gray hair, thicker beard – which made Ben realize that of course, he had projected himself to look like when Ben had last seen him.

"Hello Ben," Luke said, a solemn look in his eyes.

Ben wanted to run, to _vanish _– ghosts could vanish, right? – but he forced himself to stay put, though he had trouble looking his uncle in the eye. "I-I . . . I . . ."

Luke's eyes lowered. "I'm sorry, Ben. I'm so, _so_ sorry."

Ben almost felt like laughing. "_You're_ sorry? I'm the one who turned to the dark side and _you're _sorry?"

Luke twisted his mouth, haggard-looking even in death. "It was only because I failed you."

If Ben still had a heartbeat, it would have been racing. _Would_ things have been different if Luke hadn't raised his lightsaber on that fateful night, or would Ben have fallen to the dark side anyway? Why couldn't Ben answer that question?

"I . . . I don't know what to say." It sounded feeble, but it was honest.

"That makes two of us," said Luke.

"Well . . . I guess we'll have eternity to figure out what to say."

Now there was a bit of a grin on Luke's face. "Let's not wait that long, though. I'm still proud of you." He reached over and placed his hand on Ben's shoulder. "You look good. Like a burden's been lifted."

Before Ben could respond to that, a beautiful woman with curly brown hair approached, smiling at Ben as if she knew him. "Hello, Ben," she said in a gentle voice.

Ben cocked his head, feeling like he _should_ know this woman – in fact, he was starting to feel foolish that he _didn't_ recognize her. "Do I know you?" Now he felt _really _stupid having said that.

Her smile widened into a grin. "No, but I know you. I've known you ever since you were a baby." Now her face morphed into a serious expression. "My name is Padme. I'm . . . I'm your grandmother."

"Grandmother . . ." Ben's voice came out in a whisper as memories of visiting his grandmother's grave with his family when he was a child came flooding into him.

Before he could say anything more, his grandmother wrapped both him and Leia up into her arms, squeezing them both against her. "Leia, Ben, I'm so proud of you – of both of you."

Why was everyone proud of him? How the _hell_ did sacrificing himself for Rey overpower all the horrors he committed before that? Even in death, his mind's eye could see Han's horrified face as he ran his lightsaber through him.

Han . . . did he dare ask about Han?

"You _shouldn't_ be proud of me," he whispered.

Padme pulled out of the embrace, looking into her grandson's eyes. "You know, your grandfather said the exact same thing when he got here."

"My grandfather . . ." Though Ben no longer had a nervous system, he still felt his spirit tensing up.

"Yes," said Padme. "Would you like to meet him?"

Meet him. The grandfather Ben had long idolized in his other life. The grandfather he'd often sought for guidance in the dark side. The grandfather he once thought spoke to him.

But all of it was a lie.

How could he ever face the _real _grandfather he'd actually never met?

Padme ran her fingers through his hair. "You don't have to meet him yet, but I think it might help you to talk to him. He went through a lot of the same things you're going through."

"He didn't _murder his father_," Ben found himself snapping. "He didn't even _have _a father to murder! How could he _possibly_ . . ." He trailed off, the question pounding in his head – _where was Han?_ Why wasn't anyone telling him about Han? The vision he'd seen of Han on Endor – was it truly only that, a vision, a memory, a hallucination, a _nothing?_

Was his father truly _gone?_

Meanwhile Padme was giving him that gentle smile. "Ben, it's all right," she whispered.

"No, it's _not!"_ Part of Ben wanted to just collapse, sink out of whatever this place was and down into oblivion. He _deserved_ oblivion – permanent oblivion. No dreams, no awareness, _nothing_ forever.

Like the oblivion he might have sent his father into.

"Ben," said Leia, putting her hand on her son's shoulder, "I think you should meet him too."

His mother's voice finally gave him the strength to nod, though he still wasn't sure how to face his real grandfather. But it was too late to take the nod back – Leia, Luke, and Padme were already leading him to a booth in the corner, where there sat a ghost of a young man with curly dark blonde hair and blue eyes identical to Luke's, wearing long Jedi robes. Again Ben missed the ability to take a deep breath. How long would it be before he got used to not breathing at all?

"Hello, Ben," said the ghost of Vader – no, _Anakin_ – giving a grin that distinctly reminded Ben of his father's grin.

Ben held up his hand before Anakin could say anything more. "Please, don't say you're proud of me."

Anakin's grin faded. "All right, I won't." He patted the seat next to him. "Come on, have a seat. I have a feeling that there's a lot you want to talk about."

Ben obeyed, but again his spirit tensed up. All those years when he thought he knew his grandfather, but this man was a _stranger._ "Why . . . why didn't you ever appear to me? I thought you spoke to me, I thought you _wanted _me to continue your legacy in the dark side. Why didn't you ever tell me it was really Palpatine's voice I was hearing?"

Anakin gazed down at his hands. "I tried to – many, many times, but Palpatine always blocked me from reaching you." He looked back up into Ben's eyes, a solemn expression on his face. "I was always watching over you, though. We all were."

Ben felt his hands clenching into fists. How he wished he could go back in time, take back the life that Palpatine had stolen from him, save all the lives that had ended at his hands.

Save his father.

Before he even realized what was happening, his fists slammed down on the table. "Why?" he cried out. "Why did things end up like _this?_ Why was I such a weak _idiot_ that I fell for everything?" He closed his eyes, unwilling to look at all the people who claimed they were so proud of him, as if one good deed at the end of his life could erase everything else.

Then he felt Anakin's strong arm wrapping around him. "You can cry about it. The guilt you're feeling – it gets better after a while. It doesn't really _go away_, but it gets better."

Cry. Ben ran his finger under his eyes and felt moisture – so ghosts _could_ cry after all. With that realization, the tears exploded out of him, though they felt _different _from regular tears – they didn't burn his eyes like regular tears.

"Yes, it's all right," said Anakin, now squeezing his grandson with both arms. "Forgiving yourself will take time – probably a _lot_ of time. I'm not gonna lie and say it'll be easy, but I'll be here to help you. We all will."

All . . .

Finally Ben looked up, wiping his eyes and blinking Leia, Luke, and Padme back into focus. At long last, he gained the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on him ever since he woke up here.

"Where's Dad?"

_Gone,_ he expected them to say when they gave each other awkward looks. _Nowhere. His soul doesn't exist anymore._

But instead, Leia merely offered her hand. "Come on, I'll take you to him."

. . .

She took him back to the house where she'd said their family resided and led him up several flights of steps, squeezing his hand the entire time. If she was taking him to Han, that meant Han still existed, right? But if so, why was she so _quiet _about the whole thing? Why wasn't Han there when he first woke up here?

Maybe Han wasn't there because he didn't want to see the son who had murdered him.

"All right, here we are," said Leia, stopping in front of a door and giving her son a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, sweetheart."

Don't worry? How could he _not_ worry? He almost told Leia that he wasn't ready, but before he could do so, she opened the door, which led to a bedroom much like the one he'd woken up in. Sunlight coming from somewhere streamed through the window and illuminated the bed in which Han lay curled up on his side under the covers – sleeping? Ben rushed up to the bed, realizing that his father was lying _completely_ still and looked pale even by ghost standards. Without any breath, he looked _dead._

"Dad?" Ben gasped, grabbing his father's shoulder and shaking it. "Dad, wake up, _please _wake up!" Maybe his spirit _was _gone after all. "Please Dad, WAKE UP!"

It seemed like ages before Han's eyes finally twitched, which would have made Ben sigh in relief if he could still breathe. The older man blinked his eyes open, a weak grin slowly forming on his face. "Hey kid," he said in a soft, raspy voice, as if he were sick.

Ben wanted to run and hide, escape his father's smile. How could Han smile as if everything was fine? "D-Dad . . . what . . . what happened to you?"

Han kept grinning, though it looked like it pained him to do so. "Nothin' much – it's just that manifestin' yourself in your son's mind when you ain't Force-sensitive takes it outta you."

"What?"

Han slowly pointed a shaking finger towards the door. "Your mom helped."

Ben's head whipped around to face the door, where Leia was entering the room. "You . . . helped?"

Once she reached the bed, Leia leaned over and kissed her husband's lips. "As soon as I got here, he asked for my help reaching you. No one knew if it could be done, not even Luke."

"Yeah," said Han. "I'd been tryin' for a long time, but Jedi are pretty damn stubborn. Your grandpa was all 'if the Emperor's blockin' me, he'll block you too,' Luke was all 'you don't know what it'll do to you and I'm not gonna lose you again.' But your mom, she understood."

"Understood what?" asked Ben, still trying to process what they were saying.

"That I had to talk to you," said Han. "That you had to know I forgive you."

"Forgive . . ."

That oh-so-familiar Dad grin was back on Han's face. "Yeah, forgive." Grunting and flinching, he struggled to open his arms to his son. "C'mere, give your old man a hug."

Ben stepped backwards. "H-How . . . how can you be so . . . you should be . . . after what I did . . ." The tears were back, streaming freely down his face, but this time they offered no relief.

Han stared up into his son's eyes as if pleading. As if _he_ were the one who should be begging for forgiveness. "C'mon, son."

"_I _did this to you!" Ben sobbed. "How long are you going to be like this?"

Han's arms fell back on the bed, as if he was too weak to hold them up. "Days, weeks, months, years, who knows? I got eternity to get better."

"So first I ruin your life, then I _end _your life, then I even ruin your _afterlife!_"

"Sweetheart . . ." said Leia.

"No!" Ben interrupted. "I don't want to hear anything about how it's all right or you forgive me or you're so proud of me! You're _both_ here because of me! The galaxy fell back into darkness because of _me!_ You shouldn't have had me in the first place!"

With that, he collapsed onto the bed next to his father, sob upon sob exploding out of him. He felt his parents' hands on his back, but he refused to look at them. Why couldn't he will himself out of existence? He _shouldn't_ exist, not in ghost form or _any _form.

"Ben, listen," Han said in that weak voice, "I _chose_ this. I knew it'd take a toll on me, but I didn't care. Please son, look at me."

Ben opened his eyes, seeing that his father was staring at him, his expression similar to how he looked when he talked to Ben on Endor.

"Yeah, son," said Han, putting his hand on Ben's cheek and wiping his tears with his thumb. "I'm gonna get better, then you and I can have a drink at the cantina and we can go explore the other hotspots the afterlife's got to offer." He patted his son's cheek, blinking as if he were struggling to stay awake. "Meanwhile, you could go visit Rey if you want."

Ben felt himself tense up again. "I will, soon, but . . . I don't know how to face her right now."

Han gave an understanding smile. "Well, you could try visiting her dreams first – that's easier. Even those of us who ain't Force-sensitive can visit dreams – I did it a lot with you."

Now Ben actually smiled back, remembering various dreams he'd had about Han in the last year.

"Okay now," said Leia. "Ben, we should let your father get some rest."

"I want to stay here." The words came out of his mouth automatically, without conscious thought, but he knew they were the truth.

Han was grinning again despite his eyelids drooping. "Well, I'm good with you stayin' here for a little while. I've missed you, buddy."

Leia shrugged. "All right." She leaned over and kissed both her husband and son. "I'll be back in a little while to check on you."

Once Leia left the room, Ben got out of bed, eased himself under the covers, and lay back down next to his father. "So, ghosts can sleep?"

"Technically, we don't _need_ sleep, but we _can_ sleep if we want to," said Han. "Good thing, too, cause after the strain I've been through, I damn well _want _to."

Ben sank his head into the pillow. "And . . . do we dream?"

Han's eyes were closing. "Sometimes. Don't think we ever get nightmares, though." He forced his eyes open for another moment. "So you don't need to be afraid of sleep here."

With that, his eyes closed, leaving Ben unsure what to do for the moment. In this little room, next to his father, away from the other ghosts, he could almost feel normal, even forget he was dead.

Then his thoughts drifted to Rey, how she had called him by his true name before kissing him, and he knew that he would never regret giving his life for her. He _would_ see her soon – maybe he could even visit her dreams from here. Even in death, some part of him still felt its connection to her.

He closed his eyes, knowing that he had a lot to learn about this strange new existence, that he would still face horrible regret for the things he did.

But right now, he could just lie here with his father.

THE END


End file.
